


A Cuckoo Song

by coolkidroland



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Politics, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolkidroland/pseuds/coolkidroland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a life of escaping out windows, Alvin's used to being shown the door. So he's prepared to take it like an adult when Yurgen hands him his walking papers. Slightly less prepared to end up ass-deep in the Rieze Maxian government, his own loose ends, and Gaius.</p><p>Meanwhile, Leia tries and fails to master: the art of getting Jude to eat a sandwich; anger management; jealousy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cuckoo Song

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is a thing. Small notes: this is set post Xillia 2. If you notice any discrepancies in the timeline or character ages, that's probably on purpose - for all the great love I have for Xillia, I find its grasp on human ages somewhat wonky. Let's blame Milla. Enjoy!

A breeze wound its way through Xian Du’s corridors, fluttering the prayer flags and settling the evening chill. It would be true winter soon. Alvin ducked into the bar, grateful for its arte-warmed interior. The spyrix and kerosene of Elympios just couldn’t measure up. Jude would be a real hero as soon as the spyrite could replace heaters that stunk to high heaven and could kill you in your sleep. Hard not to be jealous of the Rieze Maxians, Alvin thought as he claimed a bar stool; he really did understand why some folks got so pissy towards god’s chosen people.

“Yurgen coming by?” asked the bartender, a sweet woman named Nin who was always happy to ramble at Alvin about her cats when he felt lonely.

“Should be. I’ll just take my usual.”

Mid-self scotch on the rocks, heavy on the ice. Alvin only drank stupid when Rowen was there to goad him into it - and watch his back. For all other occasions, there were good bartenders.

Nin slid the drink to him. “There you go. You’ll be headed back to the other side of the bridge soon, then?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You take care of yourself over there. I still don’t know about those Elympions.”

“Hey now, I’m born and bred.” Alvin saluted her with his glass. “I’m wise to their tricks.”

She didn’t look convinced, but that was Nin for you. Alvin had been dividing his time between Xian Du and Trigleph for years, and she still treated him like a son marching off to war. Silly as it was, Alvin could help being a little touched by it.

Yurgen’s arrival cut off whatever other wisdom Nin wanted to share about Alvin’s countrymen. She took one look at him and went to fetch a beer. Alvin didn’t blame her; something was wrong. It was written all over Yurgen’s face and in the slump of his shoulders. No one could possibly be dead, not that Yurgen would know about first. Had a contract gone sour? They’d recovered from bullshit before without Yurgen’s face twisting up like he was going to hork all over Nin’s clean floor. He took a seat and took his beer, but didn’t drink.

“I can get you something stronger than that, if you need,” said Alvin.

Yurgen smiled like a man preparing to negotiate with his firing squad. “No thanks. I should keep a clear head for this.”

“Yurgen, buddy, you’re already married.” _To the devil._ “I know I’m charming and all, but you’ll grow out of it.”

“Alvin. We need to talk.”

The bottom dropped out from Alvin’s stomach. He knew that tone. Was _Isla_ dead? Alvin propped his chin on one hand and sipped his scotch.

“Fee free to use your words anytime.”

“The thing is - Isla’s doing well. Really well. With a lot of hard work, and this spyrite thing from Jude, she’s up and about.”

“Hey, congratulations!”

When Alvin raised a toast, he was even mostly sincere. Isla was still a splinter, a blister in him that refused to rupture and heal, but that wasn’t Yurgen. And that wasn’t Yurgen’s fault. Alvin didn’t understand unconditional love, but he sure as hell respected it. 

All he got in return for his celebration was a helpful nod from Nin. 

“Thanks,” said Yurgen once the silence had stretched out too long to be anything but awkward. “I wanted to tell you not to take this the wrong way, but I don’t think there’s a ‘right’ way.”

Alvin hadn’t grown up untangling bullshit for a living without learning a thing or two. The pieces clicked into place and the picture became clear. He finished his scotch. No point in being angry; it was what it was.

“Isla wants me out.”

At least Yurgen looked uncomfortable. “Yes. I don’t know everything - I don’t want to know everything. But she isn’t comfortable being around you, and as her husband I have to respect that.”

 

_Alfred,_

_It’s as if I spend no time here at all. I wake up in the morning to find that months have passed while I live in memory. I wish I could recall your face as it is now. You must look so much like your father._

_I am sorry. I’m sorry we never got home. I’m sorry about Gilland. I’m sorry about everything you’ve done for me._

_The doctor has been slipping cyanide into my meals. I recognize the smell from Exodus. I eat of my own accord. Don’t hurt Isla. Forgive her. Forgive me._

_All of my love,_

_Your Mother, Leticia Vint Svent._

 

“No worries.” Alvin clapped Yurgen on his shoulder. “You have to look out for your family. I understand.”

Alvin was shocked to find himself telling the truth. He didn’t want to ruin Yurgen’s life, not by hanging around, not in revenge. They were friends. Partners. Yurgen had put his neck out for Alvin, and Yurgen deserved to have life go smoothly for once.

“You do?” Yurgen asked.

“Hey, happy wife, happy life, right?”

Between Alvin and Isla, it wasn’t even a contest. What was he going to do, act morally superior? If he’d been on the straight and narrow for five years, so had she.

“I don’t want to cheat you out of anything. The clan has agreed to buy out your share of the business. It’s not riches, but you’ll more than land on your feet.”

Alvin nodded. “That’s fair.”

It was, even if he didn’t feel like it. Getting upset wouldn’t fix anything. Fighting this would only make him the villain, and he’d had enough of that. Wasn’t this stepping up to the plate and being the good guy? This business was only everything he’d ever honestly worked for. No big deal. Forgiven! Mom would be so proud.

“The house - ”

Alvin waved away the thought. “What do I want with a house? Fill it with the pitter-patter of little feet.”

Just don’t think about the mother of those little footsies. Yurgen would make a good father. Honest, forthright, willing to put in the time. He’d raise good citizens for a bright world in the room where Alvin had left his mother to rot.

Yurgen hauled him off the barstool into a rib-cracking hug. Alvin returned the sentiment with a little less force behind the back slapping. He was finding it a bit difficult to breathe.

“You’re a good man. Thank you.” Yurgen pulled away, his eyes suspiciously bright. “I’m going to go finalize this, so we can get you your money.”

Nin watched him go, her expression unforgiving. “You need a drink?”

“Nah,” said Alvin, cracking a smile for her. “Bad decision making runs in the family. Let’s not make it any easier.”

 

***

 

As Jude and Leia had gotten better at their jobs, so had their shared apartments improved. They’d just moved into this one with its shiny countertops and its balcony overlooking a world struggling to bloom again. Leia had to step over and around boxes that no one was ever home or awake to unpack. A daunting gauntlet, but one she triumphed over to stumble into Jude’s bedroom door. She even knocked, because she was polite and ladylike, damn it.

“Jude,” she crooned, “wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Leia raised the volume on her polite knocking just a skosh. “It’s almost noon, you delinquent!”

A muffled thump, some unhappy murmurs, and Jude’s Saturday-morning-zombie-shuffle later, the door clicked open. Jude was still wearing his lab coat, and he’d either slept in his glasses or forgotten how they worked. Leia reached up to straighten them, but she abandoned all hope for his ponytail.

“Good morning,” he managed through a jaw-cracking yawn.  
“Barely! I’m headed to lunch with Alvin. Are you alive enough to come?”

Jude rubbed at his eyes and knocked his glasses askew again. “I didn’t get in until five and I need at least three showers. You going to be home for dinner?”

“Yeah.” Leia heaved a sigh. “Ashley broke up with me, so congrats! You’re my entire social calendar.”

“Me and Alvin,” said Jude, then bent to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. To be honest, I didn’t like her much anyway. She always smelled like weird pies.”

“You missed your calling writing copy for perfume ads. Remember to eat, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dug her shoulder bag out of a pile of coats, hats, shoes, and detritus. Then she lingered stubbornly in the doorway until Jude staggered into the kitchen and shoved half a granola bar in his mouth. That was a start, even if she didn’t believe he’d eat anything else between that and dinner. 

Trigleph was smack dab in the middle of its new and struggling springtime. Trees were budding, birds were chirping, and it almost, but not quite, smelled nice. Leia knew she was overdue a visit home, and thought she might take it soon. She appreciated the flowers here for their tenacity, but it just wasn’t the same. Nothing in Elympios ever was, really, but there were things she loved about it on their own.

For example, the little cafe just two blocks down from the newspaper office, the one with the excellent coffee and huge sandwiches. Alvin already sat under one of their colorful umbrellas, sipping something smaller and more tea-ish than his usual monstrosities. Leia plopped down in the chair opposite and peered at him. He didn’t look like a man dying, or one with food poisoning. He did, however, have dark hollows under his eyes, and he was drumming his fingers against the poor defenseless teacup. 

“So,” said Leia. “Did you kill a guy or something?”

Alvin jerked back so abruptly he slopped tea all over the table. “What?”  
“Strictly off the record.”

“Why the hell would you ask me that?”

He was sporting more stubble than usual, and there was a small duffle-bag at his feet. All these years of honest labor meant that Alvin couldn’t hide from the keen eyes of a reporter. But he wasn’t usually so…jumpy.

“You look like you might’ve killed a guy,” said Leia. “You know, for somebody who’s killed a couple.”

Leia ignored his indignant glare and flagged down a waitress. She ordered her lunch, but Alvin waved off the idea of food. Maybe he was sick? Last year, he’d barged into their apartment, spent a week whining on their sofa, and given Leia the flu. She would wash her hands.

“A couple?” Alvin asked as soon as the waitress ducked back inside.

“If you’ve kept count, feel free to correct me.”

Alvin opened his mouth, thought better of what might come out of it, and snapped it closed. He fidgeted more with his tea and his scarf before saying, “No, I didn’t kill a guy.”

Tension fled from Leia’s shoulders. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nosy,” Alvin chided, wagging a finger at her. “I could ask you the same question.”

“My girlfriend broke up with me and Jude keeps forgetting he isn’t a robot,” Leia said.

“The girlfriend who smells like weird pie?”

“Do you two talk to each other about this or — never mind. Something’s wrong. ‘Fess up.”

Alvin had been Leia’s first liar, and he held a special place in her heart. But since meeting him, she’d interviewed criminals, politicians, and attention seekers. She’d seen a lot of fake smiles. She’d even seen Alvin’s real one. The easy smirk stretching across his face was all sound and fury.

“Gonna call the police if I don’t?”

“Alvin.” The key was looking disappointed until he cracked.

“Well.” Alvin ran a hand through his hair. He’d gotten it cut short again recently, and the nervous gesture ruffled the spikes. “I sort of got - fired?”

“What?” Leia demanded. “You got _fired_? You own half the company!”

“Owned,” said Alvin.

“What the hell happened? Do I have to beat up Yurgen? Because I’ll beat up Yurgen!”

He did crack a real smile at that, though he wouldn’t meet her eyes for long. “Don’t beat up Yurgen. Look, it’s personal. I agreed to it.”

Leia gripped the edge of the table like maybe she could carry it to Xian Du and beat people with it. “Whatever you agreed to, it wasn’t fair!”

“Maybe not,” Alvin said, shrugging. “What’s fair?”

Leia eyed the way Alvin’s jacket hung a little too loose. “Alvin,” she said carefully, “when did this happen, exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Alvin took a sudden intense interest in the buildings across the street. “Six, seven months ago?”

Deep in Leia’s soul, she felt a sudden and profound empathy for her mother nestled alongside the enduring desire to kick Alvin’s ass up and down the street. Only the arrival of the waitress and food spared him her wrath. Instead, she stole his tea saucer and balanced half her BLT on it.

“Leia - ”

“If you don’t eat that, I’m going to break every bone in your body.”

He ate it, and then half her fries to boot. Leia didn’t even hesitate before ordering a fruit parfait for two, and Alvin was too smart to say anything when she handed him a spoon.

“Have you told _anyone_?” she asked once they were both full of ice cream and she wanted to hug him more than punch him. 

“Nah. Everyone has enough of their own bullshit to worry about, right? I’ve been picking up jobs, getting back into the mercenary swing, but - turns out that’s a hard living for an honest man.”

“Too good to wait tables?”

He pulled a face at her. “I’m a Vint Svent and former Exodus. Everybody knows my face and my story, and nobody wants to touch it with a ten foot pole.”

Leia chewed on her bottom lip. Alvin chased a piece of banana around the parfait glass and looked pathetic and proud all at once. Any job she could get him at the paper would be playing gopher, fetching papers and picking up coffee orders. Even if she could convince him to take it, he’d self-sabotage in less than a day.

“Stay with me and Jude,” she said, because she had to try.

He shook his head. “No dice.”

“Why not? We’ve got a guest room now.”

“Maybe next week, or something. I’ve got a job lined for the next few days, I hope.” He pushed his chair back and stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Besides, you think I want to be neck deep in your weird incestuous friend marriage? No thank you.”

“You had better text me!” Leia called after him as he made a coward’s retreat to who-knew-where.

She had Rowen’s number pulled up on her GHS before the waitress even brought the bill.

 

***

 

Alvin had spent enough years on everybody’s bad side to know when he’d been made. The desk clerk at the inn stared at him as soon as he walked in the door, her professional expression not quite masking guilt. Time to face the music, even if he wasn’t certain of the tune. He hoped it was Balan being weird and not one of the yet-lingering Exodus or Anti-Elympion sects out for his blood. Alvin didn’t really have the energy or extra ammo to shoot anybody.

The door chimed merrily when he swiped his keycard, so there was no sense in trying to be stealthy. He walked in with his hands up. Rowen, sitting at the little round table with a cup of tea much nicer than the bags room service left, raised an eyebrow.

“You were expecting the authorities, perhaps?” Rowen asked.

“I expect a little bit of everything,” said Alvin, shrugging and allowing his bag to thump to the floor. “Maybe not the Prime Minister of Rieze Maxia, though.”

“I come before you as a concerned friend.”

“You broke into my hotel room. I take it Leia tattled?”

“Sang like a bird. You have her very worried. Please.” Rowen nodded to the other chair. “Sit.”

Alvin perched on the edge of the bed, unwilling to play nice or put Rowen between himself and the door. “Look, nobody needs to stage an intervention. I’m not having a crisis.”

“You look as if you’ve lost weight,” said Rowen, infuriatingly mild.

“Nobody likes a spare tire.”

“Leia thinks you haven’t been eating.”

“Leia thinks Teepo hasn’t been eating. She’ll feed us until we all explode and die happy.”

“Mm,” said Rowen, and continued to look unimpressed.

Alvin made a frustrated noise. “You want to buy me a sandwich, too? Maybe give me your spare change?”

“I’m here to offer you a job, in fact.”

“Pity jobs aren’t much better than pity sandwiches. I’m not about to shovel your sidewalks for you.” Which was maybe a bit rich from a guy who had spent the last three days knee deep in monster guts.

Rowen sighed and set teacup on saucer with a somehow decisive little _clink._ “Are you truly dedicated to the cause of your childishness?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Some disappointment is expected after a battle lost, but this. If I speak harshly, forgive me, for I am as concerned about you as Leia. It is easy for those who do not move forward to fall back into old habits.”

Alvin saw the opportunity to take offense like a bone waiting to be broken. He could tell Rowen where to take his speech and shove it, and Rowen would go. Rowen was polite and a little cold that way. On the other unhappy hand, the old man was right. Monster hunting didn’t pay the bills, and Alvin went to bed every night smothering the litany of things that _did._ Tips and tricks to pay every bar tab, doctor, and informant you needed, as long as you weren’t squeamish.

“You promise you’re not gonna hand me a shovel?”

“That would be a remarkable waste. Truth be told, I’ve had your name in mind for some time. Given how dedicated you were to your business ventures, however, I hesitated to bother you. Now that you’re free to pursue other interests, I thought I’d toss my hat in the ring.”

“There aren’t a lot of other hats competing.”

“That suits me just fine. I’m too old to fight very hard.” Rowen smiled warm and grandfatherly. “For a number of years, Rieze Maxia has been in want of a spy master.”

If Alvin hadn’t been sitting down, he would have lost his footing. “You’re pulling my leg. Or mocking me, not sure which one would bother me more. What was all that talk about bad habits?”

“The position is primarily administrative,” Rowen said, entirely as if he weren’t being disturbing and Alvin hadn’t spoken. “And on paper, that’s what you’ll be: an official, an aide. We have spies and soldiers enough, but it is supremely difficult to find someone with the necessary skills and traits to oversee them.”

“And what skills would those be?” Alvin asked, curious in spite of himself.

“We require someone who knows the ins and outs of back alley business, but who is still devoted to the peace. An honest liar.”

Alvin snorted. “Sure. A lot of people will vouch for at least half of that statement.”

“There are other factors, of course. At some point in your life you have lived in or served all three of the nations at play. I know all of your tells. And, most importantly, Gaius trusts you implicitly.”

Rowen sat as serene as a spirit. Alvin tried to juggle this information into something more sensible. Outside his hotel room, the world marched on in a much more orderly fashion.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Alvin at length.

“I think you’ll find that he does. As he would trust me, or Jude, or Miss Elize.”

“Then he’s an idiot, like the rest of you.”

Rowen chuckled. “That’s the king of Rieze Maxia you’re bad mouthing, young man.”

“If I take this job, he’d better get used to it.”

“I’m absolutely certain he’ll adjust.”

Alvin was left with a business card and strict instructions to ‘think about it,’ which meant that he was totally screwed.

 

***

 

Leia kicked her feet up on their recently excavated ottoman and allowed herself to sink into the couch with an explosive sigh. Jude didn’t look up from the work he wasn’t supposed to bring home. At least, not until Leia leaned over, wrestled the clipboard out of his hands, and flung it into the far corner.

“Leia!”

“Jude!” she mocked. “Come on, you haven’t made eye contact with another human being in three days, and with Alvin gone I’ve managed about half a casual conversation!”

Jude blinked owlishly. “Alvin’s gone? He usually spends spring here, doesn’t he?”

“He didn’t - tell anyone, of course he didn’t. I asked Rowen to talk to him, and so Rowen straight up _kidnaps_ him to Kanbalar. I have custody rights, you know!”

The look on Jude’s face mirrored the one he got when he’d totally forgotten someone’s birthday, so Leia gave him the quick and dirty summary. In her estimation, it was a miracle that any of the geniuses at Helioborg remembered that they needed to breathe.

“I’m glad,” said Jude. “Not that Alvin’s moved away - remind me to text him - but, to be totally honest, I never really liked him hanging out with Yurgen.”

“Get a load of Doctor Mom over here.” Leia couldn’t help the way her voice softened when she added, “All that stuff with Isla, right?”

Jude fidgeted with his cuffs. “Yeah. Sometimes you get the feeling that someone is doing something…because they think they should, or it sounds like the right thing, rather than it really being good for them.”

And they both worried about Alvin. More than one long night had been spent at their various kitchen counters, sitting on stools, sipping hot chocolate, and hoping that he was going to be okay. He wasn’t special or anything, really. They worried about Elize, too, that she was maybe studying too much or pushing herself too hard, too fast. They worried about Rowen’s age, and his ever-increasing responsibilities, and his health. But Elize asked for help, and Rowen took care. In a lot of ways, Alvin was still like a stray cat that they left food out for; he wasn’t quite feral, but sometimes they had to haul him into the vet because he’d gotten into a fight or put something in his mouth he shouldn’t have.

“Well, he’ll have Rowen and Gaius to keep him on the straight and narrow now.” Leia didn’t worry much about Gaius. She didn’t think it would be legal.

“A model citizen.”

But Alvin’s fake smiles had spread like the plague, and Jude’s a brief, sickly thing. Leia scooted over on the couch and nudged him in the ribs.

“Is everyone sad but me? I got dumped! Don’t tell me you got fired, too.”

“Of course not!”

He sounded so indignant that Leia had to grin. She also had to keep pushing, because she wasn’t sure she could handle much more moping.

“So, what’s up?”

“I talked to my parents.”

“Oh.” Her grin faltered. “Thought we told you stop doing that.”

It had taken Leia a long time - too long - to understand the reality of Jude’s home life. Dr. Mathis was a town hero, and he’d been her savior, and then her boss, and all along he’d been Jude’s _dad._ Everything he did just sort of blended into normal. Leia remembered telling herself that hey, her mom hit her a heck of a lot more! Like she’d been deliberately ignoring the difference between training and a smack across the face. None of it had ever gotten through to her, really, until Teepo, out and about for a semi-annual reunion, had blurted: ‘I kind of want to punch Jude’s dad!’

Elize had been mortified. And absolutely correct. Nobody deserved the way Jude’s father treated him, least of all Jude. Leia had trouble talking to either Dr. Mathis Senior these days.

“They’re my parents,” Jude said. “I can’t just ignore my mom’s calls. But every single time, Dad starts in on my research, or my personal life, or Milla.”

Leia tugged on Jude’s shoulders until he obligingly toppled over with his head in her lap. She tugged out his hairband and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Your dad’s a dick.”

“Leia!”

“I only say it because it’s true! You’ve done so much. If he’s really proud of you, he can be proud of you to your face. And if he ever goes off on Milla in front of me, I’ll break his nose.”

“Further mark of her bad influence.” Jude turned over to stare past Leia to the ceiling. “Do you think it’s normal, to miss her so much after this long? Maybe Dad’s right, and I need to let it go. Start seeing people.”

“I miss her too, I promise.”

Missed her like someone had waltzed into Leia’s insides and spirited away a few key bits and pieces. Everything still marched on just dandy, but Leia could feel the lack lodged just behind her heart. Maybe that was why her break-ups never bothered her, why nothing ever felt right _in comparison._ Milla had rearranged so much of them to suit her, just by existing. Leia couldn’t feel even a tiny bit bitter: Milla was Lord Maxwell, after all.

Ashley had been a nice girl. A graduate student and bookstore clerk with hopes and dreams and prospects. She’d had long black hair and a soft stomach and she’d believed in peace with all her heart and she’d been so, so impossible to stay focused on. Leia woke up with the temporal crossroads, miasma, Agria falling away from her, the pain of being shot - all lodged in her throat, and couldn’t put meaning to words for Ashley or any of the other lovely, soft boys and girls she’d been with.

It was in Leia’s nature to keep trying, to believe that someday the holes would start to fill themselves in. Jude never bothered dating, for all that he could have had his choice of partners, even though he was a giant dweeb. Jude needed Milla like the world needed mana.

“At least if I’m weird then you’re right here with me.” His smile was tired, but genuine now. “Just tell me how to dodge my mom telling me I should visit.”

“Here’s a thought. I’ll come with you, and you can stay at our place. Mom and Dad will be over the moon. And we’ll make plans to visit Elize, so we can peace out on schedule without getting a guilt trip.”

Jude reached up and took Leia’s free hand, sliding their fingers together. “You’re a genius.”

 

***

 

Every time he saw Kanbalar without the snow, Alvin was surprised. Intellectually, he knew it happened and he knew he’d seen it. Kanbalar just felt like it needed to be cold to continue existing. It was, he supposed, pretty nippy for a place trying really hard to have spring. He burrowed deeper into his jacket as Rowen thanked the slide car attendant. The guards waved them through.

“Gaius knows I’m coming, right?” Alvin asked. “You’re not springing this on him like you sprang it on me?”

“Oh, goodness no. I’m not an idiot.”

The castle, at least, was pleasantly toasty. Soldiers saluted Rowen as they passed, and servants dipped their heads respectfully. Alvin hoped they wouldn’t get into the habit of that with him; making people waste their good manners was so disrespectful.

“Still having trouble believing all of this.”

Rowen ignored him. “In an effort to maintain discretion, we will be meeting Gaius in his quarters. Dinner will be served there.”

“You people and food. Do I really look like I’m starving to death?”

“A bit.” Rowen led the way to a plain door guarded by a single soldier, just like several others they’d passed. “Here we are. Rowen Ilbert and Alfred Vint Svent.”

Alvin bit his tongue. What name had he expected, in all of this royal formality? Alvin No Last Name, Because Reasons? But given that Gaius got to protect his own family history, he could have at least asked. And he probably would have. Which laid this particular mangled corpse at Rowen’s feet.

What Alvin needed to be clicked into place like it had never been replaced by a business suit: don’t let them see you flinch. Rowen was playing politics like a fiddle, ten steps ahead of the board. He didn’t need Alvin having hysterics over every little thing. Rieze Maxia was paying for a spy, not some overgrown kid working through his stupid issues on dead people. 

Rowen trusted Alvin to do this. Alfred Vint Svent it would be. Alvin took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his fists.

Some kind of spirit arte tingled over Alvin’s skin before the guard stood aside and opened the door. Rieze Maxian ingenuity at its finest.

Kanbalar’s castle wasn’t quite as jazzy as Orda Palace, but it had its way of shining. Gaius’s rooms were insulated by woven floor mats and wall hangings that were only sometimes an eye-searing shade of red. The desk in one corner and the central table were both low slung in the traditional Auj Oule style; Alvin braced himself for the inevitable ache in his knees.

King Gaius his royal self didn’t even bother to stand up when they entered, though Alvin couldn’t really blame the guy. Half the table was covered in paperwork, and Gaius had a cup of tea balanced on one knee and an Elympion tablet on the other. 

“Ah, Rowen,” said Gaius. “I see you convinced him, excellent. Welcome to Kanbalar, Alvin. It’s a pleasure.”

Alvin and Gaius rarely saw each other except when one of the kids bullied everyone into some kind of get together. Every damn time, Alvin forgot, somehow, that Gaius had one of those low, husky voices that drove Alvin to distraction. He put the way Gaius said his name into the spank bank and moved on with his life.

“Nice to see the place when it’s not in the middle of a blizzard,” Alvin said, lowering himself to the floor with the memory of long years in Xian Du.

“Really? I find the season somewhat tepid, but somehow it inspires poetry.”

Rowen took a seat opposite his king and immediately started poking through papers. “The passions of spring are not easily abandoned.”

“Right,” said Gaius, with more habit than agreement. He looked good, just as reminiscent of a stubborn mountain as always. Age had started to show itself at the corners of his eyes, but if there was just a bit of white in his hair then at least someone had made him cut his bangs.

“Statistically,” said Alvin, “I think winter is most passionate. Everybody gets cooped up and goes stir crazy, nothing to do but make babies.”

“I’m glad you never turned your hand to verse,” Rowen said, even though his room to talk was slim.

Gaius settled his tea and tablet amongst the paperwork. “Let’s get business out of the way before any poetry arguments erupt. Alvin, your official purpose here is as an aide to the ambassador from Elympios.”

“Right. And she’s cool with us slinging around the Vint Svent bullshit?”

He hoped they didn’t try to start in on calling him Alfred. Balan got away with it on account of all those warm and fuzzy childhood memories, but the only other people to call him that in years and years had been Gilland and his mother. 

“It does lend a certain legitimacy to your presence, while making it clear that we are not trying to sidestep your history or your disinheritance.” Rowen poured a cup of tea and passed it to Alvin. “You are at once recognizable and utterly disconnected from the current power structure.”

“I’m also hoping to gauge how some of my nobles and officers react to a verifiable Elympion presence,” said Gaius. “The ambassador was chosen specifically because she rose up from the working class. She has only one name, and no connection to your most powerful players. By now, Svent is recognizable.”

Play nice with the Vint Svent, children. It was all very much like being five years old again. Alvin was glad he’d learned to cry less.

“Okay. And what am I doing unofficially?” he asked.

“Organizing intelligence agents, collecting reports, etcetera.” Gaius grimaced, a sort of inward-directed disappointment. “I have little head for subterfuge. I need someone to advise me on what matters are most pressing, and Rowen is already burdened enough.”

“I get it.” The tea was okay, but had that weird floral taste that slicked his tongue. “You trust me with this?”

“Of course!” On a scale of one to recognizable facial expression, Gaius looked a bit startled. “If I weren’t sincere, I wouldn’t have put forward the offer. Dinner will arrive soon. You look gaunt.”

Rowen sat there looking smug. Alvin was going to start collecting gald on weight comments.

 

***

 

The best thing about adulthood so far was Leia’s newly discovered ability to see her editor as a human being. Sure, kind of an abrupt one, but dedicated and. Real. Leia did run herd on all the interns now, but that was probably to save him the headache as much as anything. She had one of those poor indentured servants fetch coffee from Gene’s favorite cafe before she invaded his office.

“Boss! I brought you coffee so you’ll love me!”

He glowered as he tore his eyes from his computer, but accepted the offering. “You used to fear me, you know.”  
“I was very silly then.”

“But never now. Why the bribery?”

“Well,” said Leia, drawing out the syllables. “I thought I might be able to take some time off? Or, like. A lot.”

“Did you hit your head?” Gene asked. “I have to chase you out of here on weekends. I once caught you sleeping under your desk.”

“It’s just that Jude — ”

“Ah,” said Gene, “Your ‘roommate.’”

“ _Jude_ is trying to invent the perpetual motion machine starring himself, and if I don’t get him out of here I think the perfecter of the spyrite system is going to be a smear on Helioborg’s walls. I need.” She clasped her hands together in prayer. “I need a few weeks.”

Gene let her stew in silence while he sipped his coffee, but that could mean anything. Up to and including that he’d forgotten she was there.

“I’ll do you one better. A friend of mine is a professor at the university here, an anthropologist. She’s putting together a book, but needs someone competent to get her more data, do interviews. Do the field work and you’ll be compensated, plus you can stay away for as long as you and Jude-the-roommate need.”

Leia nearly collapsed on his desk. “Really?! That’s one hell of a coffee!”

“I’ll get you in touch with her to sort out the details. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything! I’d marry you if your husband didn’t mind!”

Gene’s grin was wry. “Just come back eventually.”

Leia left the office with a spring in her step. When life gave you lemons, what you really had to do was throttle life until it apologized and brought you an orange. She stopped on the way home to pick up dinner and dessert from Jude’s favorite pasta place, and she hummed her way up the apartment stairwell.

“I’m home!” she hollered from the entryway as she toed off her shoes. “Everybody better have pants on!”

Jude did indeed have pants on. And shoes. And his lab coat again. Which might have made sense if he weren’t laying in the fetal position on the couch staring at the home shopping network. 

Unease, a feeling Leia tried to keep battered and beaten, reared its ugly head. How much had Jude slept that week?

“How was work?” she asked.

She had to repeat herself twice, louder, before he startled and sat up. The remote clattered to the floor.

“Leia!”

“How was work?” Once more, resolute.

“It was okay,” he said, rubbing at the side of his neck. “We’re a little stuck on some of the new implementations, but making progress. Sorry I zoned out, I just keep going back to things in my head.”

“Progress is great, though! Is it cheating to ask more?”

Jude chuckled. “Yup. Definitely.”

The unease monster slunk back into its cave. Leia was tired too, when she worked the hours Jude was pulling. She’d once spent an entire Sunday zoned out and marathoning soap operas. As long as Jude responded, ate, smiled - he was okay. Still, that vacation was going to do him a world of good.


End file.
